He was a good little buddy.

Guys, Sidekick died.

Epic sigh.

Mr. Pistol said No more T-Mobile–he was very stern about it–and that means no new Sidekick. So I went to the stupid Verizon store to learn about cell phones.

I don’t want to learn about cell phones!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I liked Sidekick because it wasn’t really a cell phone. It was like a brick that I held against my ear and said WHAT SORRY YOU’RE BREAKING UP. And I was so fast at flipping the screen. Everywhere I went, strangers said, Wow you are really fast at that. And also, Is that a Game Boy? (Every guy thought he was the first person in the world to say that.) Sidekick was made of silver plastic, and whoever designed it didn’t even try to make it look classy or like metal or whatever. It looked horrible, like a touchingly obsolete high tech device from the previous century. And the keyboard! So roomy! It was practically like tapping away at a mainframe. I wrote the most elegant text messages on that thing! I started blog posts on the subway! I IMed like a hero! Everything was easy and breezy about Sidekick, because it was made for teens, cokeheads, Paris Hilton, etc. It may have weighed a ton and had connectivity issues, but that interface was a dream. It was beyond intuitive. It was more like deja vu. Sidekick reminded me of the interface of my soul.

The pig-faced lady at the Verizon store urged me to wait until the Blackberry Pearl comes in. First of all, I can’t wait, and second of all, that’s for girls, right? Because, ick, pearl? They might as well call it the Blackberry Clit.

I don’t do dedicated girl electronics. That’s like getting a Sex and the City neck tattoo.

Now, I will admit Sidekick has its girly qualities, and can make dudes look like homos, deffers (the flipping!), yet once I met a scary coke dealer who had one, and Mr. Pistol was all, “Hey, he’s got the new Sidekick. Why don’t you try it out, baby?” and I did but I was afraid I’d break it and he’d stab me, because he was a total thug, so I stood there trembling as I fake-tried it. Point being, that guy was profoundly and unambiguously straight. Like he probably kills girls with his dick. See? Sidekick=unisex.

“I don’t want the Pearl,” I told Piggy. “I like a full keyboard.”

Then, she said, I should wait for the Voyager. “It’s going to be just like the iPhone,” she said. “The front screen? All touch.”

Meh.

“And when you open it up, you get a full qwerty keypad.” Except she pronounced it coity, and that made me feel uncomfortable.

“It’s going to be awesome.” She tapped her fingernail on the glossy brochure that lay between us. I thought I might cry.

“I’m going to have to think about it,” I said, and got out of there.

If you asked my lawyer what my central conflict is, she’d say: afraid to grow up! And also: death!

The last thing I want is something called a Voyager. Duh. Because I don’t want to go anywhere! I want to live in my creepy-cozy magic-underachievement-land forever.

I WANTED MY SIDEKICK TO LIVE FOREVER.

I went back the next day and got a Blackberry 8830.

So: straight from retard to douchebag.

“I think you’re going to like it,” Mr. Pistol said. “Once you get used to it.”

But what he meant was: “Courage.”

I’m trying.

by Pistol Whip | 13 November 2007 | boring | Comments